Through The Lens
by The life of a girl
Summary: I don't know what drew me to him. Perhaps it was the orange hair that turned golden under the afternoon sun, the burning intensity of his coffee depths. It hardly mattered for moments later, my camera was out. Uryu Ishida is a photographer/artist and he has his sights set on Ichigo Kurosaki. Can he convince the fiery boy to become his model? If he does, what then? Warning: Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

**So, this was just an idea I came up with randomly. I hope you guys enjoy it! Please tell me what you think and thanks for reading :D**

XXX

Uryū 

I don't know what drew me to him. Perhaps it was the fact he was stood out so much, maybe it was the orange hair that turned golden under the mid-afternoon sun or the fact he seemed to have an aura of confidence and ease around him. Perhaps it was the scowl that seemed permanently set on the striking face or the burning intensity of his coffee depths.

It hardly mattered for the moment I set my sights upon him, my camera was brought up as well; silently clicking away as it captured his movements.

It sounds disturbing, I know, just arbitrarily taking photographs of strangers in the park but I'm an artist and cannot help but capture beauty it when it passes me. And a beauty he was.

Zooming in slightly, I snapped another as he let out a breath, frown clearing as he stared into the sky, orange spikes of hair falling into his eyes. The alignment was almost perfect and he looked so stunning with the blue sky behind him.

I'm a relatively well known artist, Uryū Ishida. I mainly focus on landscape but lately, I have had the strangest inclinations. That's why I had found myself at the park. I wished for some inspiration. And I had found it.

Thankfully, the man seemed rather oblivious of my presence, his ears filled with music from his headphones, hands in his pockets as he continued to stride, long legs stretching the distance quickly.

Another photograph as he smiled down at a child who had collided with his legs, a ruffle of hair and half serious scold.

I sighed, content with my work as I watched him disappear around the bend in the park walkway, in between some rather tall oak trees. If only I were able to see him another time…

XXX

It was chilly, the cool air seeping through my slim layers of clothing, my scarf the only protection from the bite in the wind. I flicked through my photographs. They had turned out well. There were a few of a woman and her child, laughing as they held hands, swinging around in the waving grass of the park, some of a particularly animated business man, a phone held to his ear as he talked, lip raised in indignation, a couple of a husband and wife, chatting at a café and of course, the photographs of the orange haired stranger I had seen that day.

The moment the bright haired man had stepped out of sight I had gone home, the perfect idea for a painting forming. The thoughtfulness, intensity, determination and fire I had found reflecting in the small glances I had glimpsed were exactly the feeling I desired in my works.

By chance I glanced up and there he was. He was rugged up more than I, shoulders up as he tried to get further into his brown jacket, trimmed with fur. He was kicking his feet slightly, the laces of his black boots swaying as he did. Long legs looked even longer in his khaki skinny jeans, making known his muscular form. The tanned face was half hidden underneath a grey and white triangle scarf and the large blue headphones sat over his ears.

The straight nose was red, ever so slightly, eyes lowered to the ground, orange lashes sprinkled with light droplets of rain.

My camera was in action in a moment, snapping as quickly as it could manage, not bothering to check the poses. Ever movement was like perfection.

Then brown eyes flicked up, glancing my way and I was frozen. Was I going to be caught? Would he call the police? I was technically a pervert, though I hadn't that intention.

However, the eyes left my lens, back to the walkway. I squinted as I went to take another, jumping when he whipped around once again, making me snap what I assume, was a rather blurry photo. Then he approached. He was faster than I had even believed humanly possible, one hand reaching up to push his headphones off while his face contorted in irritation, one eyebrow higher than the other, lip curling.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, bastard?"

I was taken aback for a moment, pushing my glasses up to mask my embarrassment and surprise. What an unfortunate vulgar vocabulary. It didn't match his appearance at all. Well, perhaps now it did.

"I was taking photographs," I replied coolly, lowering the camera as he came to a stop in front of me.

"I can see that, I mean, what the hell do you think you're doing taking photos of me?"

"Well, in fact, I wasn't taking photographs of you; I was taking a picture of that building behind you. If anything, you were the one that was the issue."

His response was unexpected, but amusing. It was if he were mentally strangling me, his eyes glaring curses, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance and he grinned manically.

"Is that right four-eyes? Give me that," he demanded, snatching the camera out of my grip.

Desperately, I reached out to snatch it back but he held it away from me, one arm out, fingers lightly pressed against my chest to stop me from coming any farther.

"Not so fast squinty. Let's have a look shall we?"

I pulled my arms away, simply hoping to move away from the touch on my chest. I watched him as he examined the camera and felt a small rush of relief flood me. It was fortunate that my camera was rather complicated and difficult to manoeuvre. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to discover how to view the photographs. Unfortunately, I could see his finger inching closer to the small black button at the bottom right hand corner of the black camera.

The pictures appeared, the first one was the blurry shot, orange splattered across the image, green blended into it. He flicked to the next, a rather stunning photograph of his brilliant stare; face clear from any scowling, simply painted with open curiosity.

Hastily I snatched the camera away from him, cradling it in my left arm, body turned slightly so he was unable to grab it back. "Snatching is rather rude, or didn't you know that?"

He gritted his teeth, irritated grin in place. "So's taking photos of unsuspecting strangers four-eyes. Now give me that thing so I can delete the photos before I smash it."

I straightened, pushing my glasses up my nose again. "I'm sorry, but I was hoping to keep these photographs. You see, I'm an artist and I needed inspiration."

Brown eyes narrowed and thin lips curled up even further, revealing a dangerous amount of teeth. "That so? See, I don't really care what you need it for, you can't go taking photos of folk as you please."

We stared at each other, each waiting for the other to move.

"Then what's your name four-eyes?"

I shifted, still cradling my camera as I hesitated. "Uryū Ishida," I finally replied, watching closely for his reaction.

He seemed to pause for a moment, perhaps considering if my words were true or not. Scowling he straightened, scratching the back of his head, orange locks ruffling as he did so. "Uryū huh? Still… you need to ask to actually photograph people, you know that right?"

I didn't reply, relieved he had believed me. I was relatively well known but it wasn't as if every stranger on the street had heard of me.

"And I better not find my picture in a freaking art gallery." He glanced at me before turning, reaching to once again place his headphones back on his ears.

"Wait," I called out, surprising myself. "I-I-" I cleared my throat. Stuttering my way through a sentence would hardly do. "I was wondering if you would become my model."

He was frozen; eyes wide in surprise, lips pouted slightly, words stuck on them, his hand still reaching for his headphones.

It was unavoidable really; the image was altogether too innocent I had to capture it.

Visibly jumping his scowl once again appeared and he opened his mouth to complain.

"I'll pay you," I added hastily. Why I was so desperate to have this man as my model, I couldn't say. Perhaps it was simply the same desire that had compelled me to actually photograph him.

He smirked, hands once again in his pockets as he turned his back to me, sticking out his tongue a little. "I don't need your money four-eyes. Find another model."

I watched him walk off, conflicted. I needed him. But I didn't want to cry out for him. Finally I gave a small chuckle, pushing my glasses up my nose again as I gave a slight smile. "I understand, you can't do it."

I had played the 'attack self-confidence' card and hoped desperately it would work.

Stopping dead he turned, eyebrow twitch back again, manic smile glinting. "What did you say four-eyes?"

"You couldn't do the job, carrot top. That's perfectly understandable. It is rather difficult."

He growled, tongue flicking across his teeth as he laughed, eyes on the ground before they stuck to mine once again, burning with the anticipation of a fight. "What's so difficult about it, bastard?"

"I'm simply stating you have to have confidence, bravery and beauty and of course you must actually appreciate art. Not everyone can do it. It's fine, you don't have to worry about it. I will easily find a capable person."

"Oh no, you aren't backing out that easily four-eyes. You obviously asked me for a reason, and now you're saying anyone can do it?"

"No, of course not. I said I can easily find a _capable _person. You quite clearly turned out to _not _be one."

The orange haired man grit his teeth, leaning forward to glare into my eyes. "I'll do it four-eyes. I'll take your stupid job and I'll do it perfectly."

I smirked, before allowing myself to stare back. "Perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the long gap guys! I've been a little busy with university and what not so please forgive me. So, this is the next chapter (clearly) and I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading, as always, and thanks for taking the time to review, I really appreciate it.**

**Please tell me what you think and enjoy!**

XXX

Ichigo 

I crunched the card that little black haired four-eyes had given me in my fist, staring up at the ceiling in irritation. I hadn't meant to say yes. Somehow he'd tricked me into saying it.

I glared at the white walls, getting pissed off just thinking about it.

"_Perfect," _he'd practically purred.

I growled, clenching my fists. _What's perfect you little cocky bastard? Huh?_ What the hell had he said his name was? Uryū… Ida? Ilda? Maybe it wasn't like that at all. Wally? Unscrambling the card, I narrowed my eyes at the name printed in black italics. _Uryū Ishida. _

I should have remembered the name really; because he was the artist I was studying while I attempted to get my degree in fine art. But the name always slipped from my mind. I mean, all in all, this opportunity was good but… the fact I had submitted to that bastards request…

Growling I sat up. Maybe I should just call it off? But the idea that he thought I couldn't handle it just made me so mad!

No, screw it. I would model like he freaking wanted and do it effortlessly. He'd see just how 'perfect' I can be.

XXX

The studio was small, just off one of the main streets of Karakura. It wasn't overly flashy-just a simple black sign that read, _'Ishida Studio.' _The window had a large charcoal picture hanging up; the image was a lonesome tree, a single branch wiggling out with only one leaf on it.

I pocketed my hands, leaning forward to examine it. It was a gorgeous picture-the long flowing strokes, matched with short and haphazard ones and the contrast made such an impact.

I was still awed when I heard the door open and a woman with long, red hair poked her head out, shy.

"Are-are you okay sir?"

Smiling, I laughed slightly. I must have looked like an idiot gaping at the picture. "Yeah, sorry." I stepped forward a little, hanging back when her eyes widened in surprise. People told me I had a scary face so I guess that's what it was. "Sorry, I'm-I'm here to see Ishida. I'm…" I paused, not wishing to say the word, _'model'. _

"Miss Inoue, why are you standing with the door open?"

I smirked at the voice, easily realising the owner and I grabbed the door that the woman released, stepping inside with her. "She was just letting me in."

The raven haired man's eyes widened a little in surprise before he coughed, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'm… surprised to see you."

"Why? Did you think that I wouldn't show up?"

Ishida scowled slightly. "Nothing of the sort. It's just that I didn't expect you to come around so quickly."

The woman with the red hair settled uncomfortably back into her office chair, glancing between us in concern.

"Well I want to get on with this," I replied irritably.

He gave a small smile before turning to the woman. "Miss Inoue, I'm going to be in the studio for a while, please don't disturb me."

She nodded, clearly curbing her curiosity as her eyes followed us through the red door.

Closing it behind us, Ishida turned to me, waiting expectantly.

"What?" I demanded.

He rolled his eyes as he stepped over to his easel. "Sit down then."

"Where?" I asked hesitantly, suddenly nervous.

Noticing my discomfort he flashed me a smug smile. "The couch."

I glanced around the room, trying to locate the couch while also taking in the setup of it. The floor was polished concrete. The room was relatively large-lots of room for laying out work.

It reminded me of a factory I guess-with a high ceiling and large windows, made of a strange, bubbly sort of glass. There was a long sink with several paintbrushes and other utensils lining the shelf above it. In a small corner of the room there was a kitchen-clean and bright-all white apart from the black stone bench-tops. Against the far wall was the couch-it looked like a day-bed-red and made of soft velvet. Directly facing the couch was the easel where Ishida already stood, graphite pencil at the ready.

I rubbed my arm before approaching the couch, approaching slowly, my hand running along the length of the gentle couch before sitting down, facing him stiffly.

A smile quirked at the edge of his lips and I found irritation rise as I watched him.

"You need to relax… what is your name?"

I scratched my head, annoyed. He tells me to relax… but he's going to be staring at me. "It's Ichigo…" I replied. "Ichigo Kurosaki."

"Very well… Kurosaki… If you'd just move back on the couch then lean forward and place your elbows on your knees-your legs slightly apart. Do you think you can handle that?"

I gulped a little, though I don't know why. But a few words stuck out from that sentence, "_…your legs slightly apart."_

Doing as I was instructed, I hoped that I wasn't blushing, despite how hot I felt. It wasn't as if he meant anything by it. I cursed inwardly as I waited for him to comment of my pose. I really needed to see Renji. It was only because I hadn't had sex for so long that I was feeling like this surely. Yes, I needed to have sex-that was the best solution. It wouldn't do to get turned on during modelling and pounce on the unsuspecting man, especially when I had a point to prove.

Now I looked at him, he was pretty attractive-in a delicate sort of way. His hair was just a little above shoulder length, framing a thin, softly featured face, making his sharp dark blue eyes stand out, even more so when matched with long, dark eyelashes. His body was slender as well and the skin was light, adding to the façade of fragility.

But that hardly mattered, I had a boyfriend.

He cocked his head slightly as he assessed me, no hint of smugness or amusement present. "Lean forward a little more and shift one of your elbows back slightly…" He paused, waiting for me to do that before nodding. "Now, don't change your expression, just watch me."

I blinked a little at his request but again I did as I was told, staring at the man as he began to work. "Is it okay with me like this?" I asked.

He nodded absently, one hand holding the easel tight as he sketched. "Yes, yes. This is exactly how I want you."

Heating a little, I cursed my dirty mind. It wasn't as if he meant it like that.

I stayed still as he continued to work, eyes flicking to me now and then, his lips set in a tight line as he worked.

After about an half an hour or so, he stepped back, considering. He glanced back at me before frowning.

"What?"

"Something…" he trailed off, staring at the picture once again before his face cleared and he placed his pencil down. "Let's go for a walk."

"Huh?" I questioned intelligently.

He 'tisked', pushing his glasses up his nose as he turned away, grabbing his camera from the kitchen bench. "Is it that hard to understand or are you just stupid? I said, 'let's go for a walk.'"

Snarling, I followed him as he walked briskly from the room, pausing at the front door. "Miss Inoue, Kurosaki and I are going out."

She nodded, eyes wide in surprise as she watched us leave. "Yes, of course."

I slowed when Ishida did, waiting for him to do something.

"Do you want some coffee Kurosaki?"

"C-coffee?"

"Perhaps you really are stupid," he mused, turning left at the end of the street into the busy main stretch.

"I'm not stupid," I snapped. "I just don't get you."

He laughed, smirking over at me.

Man, he loved making you feel inferior.

"You don't need to get me, you're my model."

I hissed at the words, ready to hit the man when he stopped abruptly, almost making me walk into him.

"Here we are."

I stared at the small coffee shop. It was almost vacant, save for a young woman and her child, a surly old man and the waitress at the counter. The café looked cosy though-small wrought iron tables and chairs out the front and pretty marble tables inside.

There was a little garden box out the front with flowers of red, blue, purple and yellow, brightening up the area.

Ishida seemed quite as ease as he stepped inside, greeting the waitress by name before sitting at a spot near the window.

When I went to sit down however, he shook his head, pointing me to the street. Following his finger for a moment, I glanced back at him, pissed. "Can't you say it in words?"

He heaved a sigh. "Walk."

"Walk?" I asked, gritting my teeth.

"Walk around, look at windows, stop at cafés… just be yourself." He stared up at me expectantly and I frowned.

"So what are you going to be doing?"

"Just observing."

I winced a little. "'Cause that doesn't sound creepy at all."

He gave a slight smile as the woman approached the table, directing pointed glances at me as she placed down the coffee. "Just do it. The sooner you do this, the sooner you'll get your money."

I sneered, straightening. "I told you, I don't want your money."

"Then what do you want?"

Pausing, I wondered if my request would be granted. I had thought long and hard about what I wanted out of this and had finally reached a decision. "I want you… I want you to help me with my study," I finally muttered, scratching my head awkwardly.

There was beat of silence before he frowned slightly. "Why me?"

"I-I'm uh… I'm studying fine art in university and I…" I considered for a moment. I didn't want to say that I chose him specifically because that would just give him more reason to brag. I finished with, "And I need to do an assignment on you." I quickly continued so he had no time to question, "Also, you owe me for this and I need to get pointers on my work."

Something strange flashed across his face before he frowned; looking a little disapproving and my heart fell.

Then he opened his mouth and said, "Fine, I can do that."

I was astonished for a moment as he stirred his coffee, not looking up at me. But then I grinned, more excited than I would have liked to be working with the man whose work I had admired for quite some time.


End file.
